


Inappropriate Gifts

by Frumpologist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas fic, Draco Doesn't Know Muggle Things, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Secret Santa, maybe crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:28:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21925198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/pseuds/Frumpologist
Summary: The annual Weasley Secret Santa Gift Exchange was always a fun event for the Weasleys and their plus ones. Draco pulled Hermione's name and wanted to get her something to reduce her stress. He did, but not in the way he thought.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 35
Kudos: 273





	Inappropriate Gifts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LightofEvolution](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightofEvolution/gifts).



> This story was written for The Write Stuff Secret Santa Exchange on Facebook. A very happy holidays to LightofEvolution! I was so excited to have received you as a giftee! I hope you enjoy this story and that it makes you smile! 
> 
> Many thanks to LadyKenz347 for helping me with this idea when my muse was stuck and for giving this a glance prior to posting!

The annual Weasley Family Secret Santa Exchange was upon her.

She held in her hands a long, rectangular box wrapped in shiny silver paper, decorated with an extravagant green bow. Honestly, it wasn’t hard to determine who her Secret Santa was; her eyes captured his across the room where he leaned against a door frame sipping elfish wine from a long stemmed glass. He pretended not to notice her staring, but she could tell from the little smirk playing at the corners of his mouth that he knew very well she was watching him.

Her fingers fiddled with the bow, slowly pulling it from the package. She tried to downplay how eager she was to see what her husband had gifted to her for the Weasley’s Secret Santa exchange, but Hermione couldn’t stifle the big, excited grin on her face any more than Draco could hide his Slytherin smirk.

“Go on, Hermione!” George, who wore a large, plastic nose and googly eyes complete with a fake, black mustache, urged her.

The room collectively chanted “open it!” until she found the perfectly edged paper and gently tore away at the tape holding it in place. She wasn’t a heathen; she could open a present and preserve the paper like any civilized adult. Several groans met her ears as she carefully unwrapped her gift.

When the back of the package was revealed, Hermione’s eyes grew round as cauldrons. Her face turned crimson and she shoved the paper back over the box, snapping her eyes to Draco’s in a panic. What on  _ earth _ was he thinking?

George reached over to grab the gift and she held firm, nudging him away with her elbow to his ribs. “Oi, what gives, Granger?”

“It’s none of your concern, George!” Her voice was squeaky, lodged in her throat around a thick, dry knot. Someone with long, slender fingers tried to pry the box from her hand and Hermione snapped. “Back off, Ginevra!”

“Whoa, Hermione,” Ginny said, swiping her hand back lest she lose it. “We just want to see what you got for Secret Santa! Is it naughty lingerie?”

“Who would get someone else’s wife lingerie?” Fleur asked, face pinched and judgmental.

“I would,” rang a chorus of female voices.

“This isn’t a hen night!” Bill argued. “It can’t be lingerie. She’s like a sister to all of us; no one is going to buy her lingerie.”

“Maybe it wasn’t a Weasley that drew Hermione’s name!” Ron pointed out in one of his more logical moments and of  _ course _ it had to be this one time that he’d nailed it.

“Well unless it was Harry — Harry, did you buy Hermione naughty lingerie?” Ginny asked her husband, eyebrows high on her head in a playful way.

Harry, however, turned green at the thought. “Please don’t say things like that about my best friend.”

“It’s not naughty lingerie!” Hermione howled, silencing the lot of them with her desperate plea for them to stop.

Hermione flushed redder still and closed her eyes. Maybe if she willed herself, she could turn invisible and creep from the Burrow unnoticed. No such luck, though, because within seconds, a crowd of Weasleys and their respective life partners surrounded her. Her grip on the box tightened and she glared at every single face hovering over her.

“This is neither the time nor the place to share what my  _ husband _ gifted me in an act of ill-advised purchasing.” Hermione shoved her nose into the air and sniffed. Her pretentious nature had put Weasleys off for over a decade; surely it would work now?

“You’re not supposed to know  _ who _ drew your name!” Molly, bless, cried over Hermione’s shoulder, and before Hermione knew what was happening, she snatched the package from Hermione’s vice like grip. “Now let’s have a peek and see — oh.”

“What is it, mum?” Ginny asked. “Naughty lingerie? Did Draco buy her lube?”

“Ginevra!” Molly hollered at her daughter, but only got a big grin in return.

“Molly, please give me the box—”

Hermione turned her neck to see Arthur leaning over Hermione’s gift, his face red and several beads of sweat developing on his forehead. “Well, that’s —”

“Let me see!” Charlie’s baritone voice carried over the others clamoring for her gift. “Oh. Whoa, okay, right. Brilliant.”

The sound of someone slapping who she assumed was Charlie was immediately followed by, “Who knew Malfoy would have the knackers to gift this at family Christmas?”

And then, “is that an  _ ultra _ setting?”

“Crikey, what’s that adjustable thing do?”

“Does it have one of those — what do they call them?” Arthur’s voice again, curious and addressing who she assumed was the only other muggle in the room; Harry. “Plugs?”

“It’s got… Merlin, what’d you need a six foot long power cord for, Hermione?” Harry laughed that ridiculous Potter laugh and she wanted to melt into the floor.

“What if they want to use it outside of the bedroom?” Ginny asked.

“Where else would you use it?” Molly’s shrill voice cut in.

“I dunno — the living room, the stairway, the loo, the kitchen—”

“The  _ kitchen _ !” Molly screeched. “But that’s where you cook all your — Hermione,  _ dear _ , please tell me that you aren’t sullying your cooking environment with—”

“Oh, shove off, mum! I caught you and dad going at it last week against the counter—”

“Well not with…  _ that _ .” Arthur protested feebly.

Everything had gone terribly downhill. Hermione dropped her head into her lap and prayed to any deity listening that they would whisk her away and take her somewhere no one knew her name. Whimpers left her, but it was drowned out by the sound of every Weasley and their plus ones making the same exact noise as Molly showed off her rather personal gift.

The sofa dipped at her side and it was Draco’s voice that finally made Hermione acknowledge that no one was coming to save her from this moment. His hand found her back and he rubbed up and down her spine.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asked, voice soft in her ear. “I thought you would enjoy it.”

Through her teeth, she whispered, “I  _ would _ enjoy it if I had received it  _ privately _ .”

“I truly don’t understand what has everyone in a fit.” His hand stopped moving and he tugged the box out of Fleur’s hand. The box was entirely unwrapped and its contents on full display as Draco palmed the box and held it to his face. It read  _ Hitachi Magic Wand.  _ “A personal massager — for the woman in your life. It says right here, to reduce stress and — oh.”

Hermione covered her face with her hands and groaned. “What exactly did you think you were buying for me?”

“A personal massager. For your back,” he said matter of factly and she could practically feel the pride he had for choosing such a thoughtful gift. “The company I purchased this from said it’s the leading massager on the market — that it’s even recommended by muggle healers to help reduce stress.”

“No doubt that it would!” She heard the vigorous claps on the back and wanted to strangle Percy where he stood. He huffed that pompous noise that made her want to ram him through with her wand. “When Pansy got one for her hen night—”

“Oi!” Ron protested. “We don’t need to hear that. Eugh.”

“Draco.” Hermione turned to face him and knocked the box from his hand. “Why couldn’t you simply gift me with jewels from your family vault?”

He smirked and grabbed her hand, admiring the shining emerald ring on her finger. “Last time I gave you family jewels, you threatened to kick me in mine should I ever gift them to you again.”

Bollocks. He wasn’t wrong. She grimaced and dropped her forehead against their joined hands. “Please vanish the massager. Before the Weasleys ask for a demonstration.”

“They wouldn’t!” Draco flushed, eyes wide in panic.

Hermione lifted her head and cracked a grin. “Probably not, but would you like to stay and find out?”

It didn’t take more convincing. Draco gave an expert flick of his wand and the box vanished. He sat back on the sofa and dragged Hermione’s flushed body against his side. He ran his hand up and down her arm soothingly and placed a soft kiss at the side of her head.

“So… when we get home—?” His eyebrows rose and there was a dark sparkle in his eyes.

“A demonstration?” Hermione asked lowly, nodding her head. “It’s truly a great gift, Draco. Perhaps inappropriate for the present company, but one we’ll have fun with for a while, I think.”

She heard Molly shoo her children away from the sofa and Hermione rested her head against Draco’s shoulder. The Weasleys dispersed and Hermione spent an uncomfortable three more hours watching everyone else unwrap their perfectly appropriate gifts and eat an embarrassing amount of pudding.


End file.
